Box of Matches
by PrincessIxi
Summary: A series of ficlets centered around John's and Bobby's relationship, and a bunch of random house hold objects
1. Defult

**Title**: Box of Matches  
**Author**: PrincessIxi  
**Disclaimer**: Hm. Not mine. Funny that  
**Beta(s)**: None

**Rating**: R- 16  
**Genre**: Comedy/Normal teenage angst  
**Warning(s)**: Excessive swearing/ me being a closet pervert

**Pairing(s)**: /

**Author's Notes**: I mostly made these little ficlets because John is the best play thing ever- no wait. I mean John and Bobby are like me and my best mate. Yes. That's what I meant, haha. So one, these are all dedicated to her, and some- actually basically all of them- are based on real life things/ feelings/ etc we've shared together. Of course... not so dramatic, duh

* * *

**Dedication**

_To Moo. Kind, wonderful, supportive, BFFE friend. This is _very _over due_


	2. Lighter

**Title **Lighter

**Rating **R-16 for excessive swearing and me being a closet pervert

**Category **Xmen ( movieverse )

**Author's Note **This idea refused to leave until it forced me out a bed and type it up. Three o'clock in the morning writing ftw X3;;

**Disclaimer **Hm. Not mine XD funny that

**Dedication**

_To Moo. Kind, wonderful, supportive, BFFE friend. This is _very _over due_

* * *

John is glaring so hard at Scott, most of the class is surprised he hasn't spontaneously combusted yet. Most of them are shuffling nervously about in their seats anyway. However this doesn't seem to faze Scott, who continues diligently on with the lesson.

John thinks about disembowelment, and really that's _not_ enough.

Finally-

"John is there something you'd like to share with the class?"

"I'd rather be bent over a desk and spanked raw-" Scott chokes, Bobby snorts, and the class_ really_ shifts this time. "-than be put under this kind of torture."

He thinks more about... hm. Explosions. Something big and on the fiery side. Annoyingly, Scott still doesn't give him what he wants. Something inside him starts to itch very, _very _badly. He has to get up, to settle his fraying nerves. The class is really not surprised at all by this. John does this on a daily basis. So out the door he goes before Scott can call him back.

The pyromaniac's no more than half way down the corridor before he feels a presence of somebody behind him. No surprises it's Bobby. His best friend in, like, _ever_. Sweet, kind Bobby, who always knows when to press into his personal space, and never to really back the fuck off. And, really, he can _do_ that, _and_ be the only person on Gods earth who won't get third degree burns. Bobby's the kind of person he'd never dream of hurting, because he knows him the best. Actually _knows_ him, unlike everyone else who thinks he's an unstable, selfish bastard- "Get the _hell_ away from me!" like he knows that each time John gets a little snarky whenever someone takes his lighter. And Bobby- _totally_ disregards the 'bubble theory'. He puts an arm round John's shoulders, giving comfort to his bestest because he knows what it's like when somebody rips out a part of your soul. And John wants to push him away and bite his fingers off. Or something.

"Someone needs snuggles," and yeah. Okay.

"Back the fuck off- and you _so_ didn't say 'snuggles' you pussy," John fails to keep the poker face up for too much longer, and it feels like Bobby is pressing his nose behind his ear. Cold nose. _Ice_man. John hates the cold. But it's not so bad if its Bobby making him shiver.

"Hm. I can't believe you said that to Scott," Bobby laughs, giving his space back. Neither can _he_ actually. All because his light- _fuck_. Lighter. He needs it. Right now.

He makes a greedy little hand motion to Bobby, who just snorts. "Man, I _don't_ smoke."

"Dude, you _have_ my back up lighter," like, right this minute. "Fuck, I need-"

A fire place? Maybe. Hm. It's summer. Damn. He had –key work _had-_ five lighters. One Jean has. One Hank has. Scott now has _three_. Shit. Damn. _Fuck_. Scott probably _would_ hit him if he came crawling back. But really John would never crawl, let alone beg for his lighter. Well. Maybe. He feels a little desperate now.

"That _was _your back up lighter. Or. Backupbackup? Scott could start a garage sale with all your stuff. Anyway the Professor confiscates pretty much every lighter in this place. Smoking is a nono," Bobby explains for the hundredth time. John tends to forget this every time _this_ happens.

"Ice me," John goes for the next best thing. He needs something. Something to get him off even if it's only slightly. His right hand is for his _lighter_. His left is for pretty much _everything else_. It's cover in thick calluses, and scorch marks. Seeing the fire just isn't just enough. John has to fucking get his hands right in and _feel_. Some people cut themselves. John _burns_ himself.

But, you know. It's not like he's depressed, or anything. John doesn't really like that word. Too many kids... toss it. People- mutants especially- at some stage or another feel like this. Like the worlds just a little too big.

The hand is the best place. Bobby takes it, and ices the tips of his fingers. Fingers_ feel_ everything. Most sensitive part of the body. Or one of them. And ice- cold enough to _burn_. It's not the same. But enough. Enough for him to rock and snarl- "Fuck yes." Like Bobby's blowing him and not just icing him.

It's something he can't explain. The fire is a part of him, like Warren's wings, or Logan's claws. Whenever it get's take away, it feels like both his legs are missing. Fire makes him feel like he actual exists. Even for a second. Burning his hair and skin make him real. He needs it like sex.

And the ice- really _really_ doesn't do it for him. It melts all too soon, and leaves John feeling wet. Hn. Like Bobby really isn't living up to how much he paid for him for a one night thing. He should probably _stop_ using these kinds of metaphors now. It makes the hunger worse.

"Hmm, Logan," he says around one finger, trying to get it back to room temperature. Logan smokes. Logan has a lighter. Logan is now his new _God_. Finding Logan is easy. He's out in the mother of all garages, with so many cars, ships, parts, engines, tools and benches that any pure blooded male could have an orgasm just from _looking_.

The mutant himself is-heh- playing around with Scott's motorcycle. _One_ of these days the Professor will give him his own. Or watch Scott really give Logan a permanent injury. John likes the latter. But really he doesn't want to think about that now. Lighter. Focus.

"Skipping out of stick-up-his-arse-Summers class again?" Logan asks, bent over the beast and fiddling around under the seat. John would probably ask what he's doing. Hell. Ask if he could _help_. Not today.

"I need a light," he demands, all but frothing at the mouth. Logan gives him that_ pity_ look. Hate hate hate.

"Got your lighter taken off you again, firebug?" Logan's really the only person who uses the pet name. John doesn't mind. Apart from right now. The hungry, greedy look must be back in his dark eyes, because Logan get's to the point. "Don't got one. Chuck melted it when I took a drag in the kitchen."

Son. Of. A. _Bitch_.

Bobby looks like he's worried that maybe _John_ will sprout claws and take off Logan's face.

This is the one thing John knows that Bobby just doesn't... _get_. He reads him like a book. Can repair damage that's been caused. But doesn't understand _this_. He can see it on Bobby's lips. The- 'It's just a _lighter_' statement. Bobby- jeez- he has **powers**. John just has cheap knock off powers. He _manipulates_ fire. He isn't fire _itself, _unlike Bobby. Bobby can become an 'Iceman'. John- John can manipulate fire around his _body_ to make it look like he's a 'Fireman', but if he doesn't stop in thirty seconds he'll burn up. Sometimes he kind of_ wants_ to burn up. Poof.

Nobody would miss him. A street punk. No mother, father kicked him out. Hardly fits in The School of Mutants in the _first _place. What if one day he just... disappeared?

He says this all to Bobby, as they sit in the grounds, as John twitches, itches and fucking _needs_. He knows he can always just- talk, to Bobby. Because he'd never been like this growing up. Didn't have that closeness or an open side with his family. It was just him. Keeping _himself_ company. Hardly spoke. _Fuck_. The first time it felt awkward confessing to Bobby. But he's a good listener. Sweet, _good_ Bobby, who probably doesn't _want_ a royal screw up like him as a friend anyway. And. Bobby doesn't hit him, or yell at him for even thinking like that, as any _other_ person would. He just- pet's his blonde streaked hair, and fucking understands.

He says maybe not the _right_ things ( because when is something ever right? ) but does the right actions. And John get's it. _Really_ get's it.

Sometimes, he feels like he shouldn't _have_ Bobby as a friend. He's to... good. To innocent and pure. Unlike him, who's rotten to the core. Well. Not _to_ innocent. John's done a pretty god job of ruining some of he's innocence. Maybe one day he'll actually tell Bobby how much he means to him. But not now. Because Bobby is taking something out of his pocket.

A lighter

"Motherfuck! Bobby," John screeches, slamming into Booby, scratching up his wrists to get at the lighter. He makes it hard. Bobby shoves a thigh between Johns legs, and John snarls and groans at the same time. Because- _shit_ that hurt. And was low. He grabs at his hair, feeling some tug out at the roots. Hm. Boys always fight dirty.

Bobby gives up soon, because an angry John can be a real bitch to put up with. And he can kick his arse. Lighter in hand, he lets loose a stream of fire. And it's like his soul mate just waltz back into the room. He's smile is so dazzling even Bobby has to check it's still the same person. Doing this never get's old. The flames flicker up his arm, back down to his fingers, the jolts going up his body simulating pleasure. "Fuck yeah," it good to feel whole again.

John wonders. Bobby probably get's jealous of the flames. Hm. He can suck that up. Three's a crowd. As a child... he only had the fire for comfort. It felt and reminded him of how his mother used to hug. Warm and safe. Now. He has _Bobby_. He guesses. Being around people, especially being intimate, comes hard for him. He doesn't realise if he's hurt someone. He's blunt, sarcastic, even _nasty_. He can't comfort a crying person ( hm. Maybe Bobby ) or deal with dramas very well. John is... nothing Bobby is. Bobby has a way with people. People instantly like him. And John will never, _ever_ gets this, but Bobby only makes room for John as- what? A best friend. Not Kitty, Warren, Peter or even Rogue. Him.

He'll understand Bobby one day. Possibly.


	3. Cuddle

**Title **Cuddle

**Rating **R-15 for minor swearing and for cuddles

**Category **Xmen ( movieverse )

**Author's Note **AGAIN was out of bed at three in the morning. Must stop doing that XD;; So I thought... hey. I need a Bobby POV 3 or a 'Moo' POV. I guess the only difference between the boys is that Bobby doesn't swear as much. Anyways. I'm awkward with cuddles and kisses between families and friends xp uuh, Johns the same? And Moo's like... a cuddleBUNNY. Hehe. Impossible NOT to hug her. And I also CAN NOT say the last thing John tries to say at the end XDD And Moo says it to me all the time, and I feel so bad but I'm so not GOOD at the whole affection thing. Which is why I can't write romance fictions. And uh, 'cuddle' isn't a house hold object. Hunh. Cuddle Toy, maybe?

**Disclaimer **Hm. Not mine XD funny that

**Dedication**

_To Moo. Kind, wonderful, supportive, BFFE friend. This is _very _over due_

***

John isn't one for affection. Human touch... he _repeals_ from it. A brush of the arm, someone pressing against him, and don't even _think_ about cuddles. Bobby knows this and.. respects it. A little. Seeing as he himself is a regular cuddle bunny.

Bobby was brought up with hugs and touches and kisses. His family gave that to him like food and water. Human affection is necessary for human- any lifes- survival.

And John.. never really had that. As a kid.

The only touches he got were hits, and Bobby can still make out welts and scars if the lighting is right.

And Bobby. Kind of wants to fix that up.

When he first hugged John, the pyro had almost broken his collar bone. But it's always fun to hug a person when they just don't _want_ it. John wriggles. A lot. The girls find this amusing when they try to. But John's a good adaptor. He just... learns that ever touch and bump from Bobby is just-him. Bobby just_ likes_ to do it. It's like he walks round with a permanent 'free hugs' sign all the time. Sometimes Bobby doesn't even realise he's doing it. He's just... there. All the time.

So when John comes into their shared room looking like hell bent over backwards, he kinda of get's it. He's been crying. Or sort of still _is_. Bobby's not too sure. His dark eyes are even blacker, red rimmed and hurt looking. And he's glaring at Bobby like it's really his fault and not his.

John-hm- he feels like saying 'cries a lot', but really he _doesn't_. Tear ducts are something of a myth to him. But he can see it. People pick on John. In the way they don't realise their actually hurting him. Which is why he keeps the whole street punk thing up, Bobby guesses. To keep people at arm's length.

"Shove over," John growls, looking surprisingly composed for someone who's supposed to be upset.

"Excuse me," Bobby laughs, because pitying him, or comforting him only leads him to dead ends. He's tried it all before. The bed is single, and Bobby was actually trying to read his history book and get some homework done before turning the lights off. And it's a single bed.

And John looks- somewhat kicked about this. Which is a first. He normally shrugs off comfort like water on a duck. Does this mean... John actually wants a _cuddle_? John _wants_ to cuddle. Bobby wants to break out the wine glasses before they do that. Instead he shuffles over, and nudges his books, pens and paper onto his bed side table. Kind of- _grudgingly- _John snuggles in, like a person who's totally unsure of himself.

And- single. Freaking. Bed.

He wants to ask what happened. But he also likes keeping all his fingers unbroken. "Do you- want to talk about it?" sounds like a good step. John isn't actually hugging him. He's more in a bent position, hiding most of his face into Bobby's chest with his arms cramped between them, defensively. It's more like John just wants to be reassured with human contact or something. Anyway you can't walk if you haven't learnt to crawl yet.

"Just- something they said."

"Oh. Was it-" Rogue? She could be very blunt at times. Kitty was just snippy and cutting. And it wouldn't be the first time either.

"I- yes. No. Sort of?" John laughs. A good sign. "It was Wolfe. And it- this is really gonna sound lame and fucking_ stupid_, because he didn't even say it to, hurt me? I dunno. He just made a comment, and it made me remember something. Painful."

And he won't talk about it anymore, Bobby knows. Which is good, because at least he opened up. Even a little bit. Progress.

"So then you decided to come up here, and have man-hugs," Bobby, well, _teases_ him, because that's always the best way to deal with a distressed John. Who takes it the wrong way, or something, because he goes stiff. Shit. "Oh. John I didn't- um," he tries to rub the tension back out of John's shoulders. He needs a _descent_ massage someday, just by touch he can feel the damage to it-

And, yeah_ fuck_, he can feel John trying to tug backwards out of the totally non threaten grip- to get away, and Bobby knows he kinda screwed up ( unpredictable John ), one step forward, and a whole damn yard backwards-

Until he feels John put his arms around him and kind of sniffle.

And Bobby really _really_ feels like the whole universe should just.. _implode_ or something at this landmark. Okay okay. Being serious now.

John's hugs are- light, if that. Like someone who has no _idea_ if they should grip, or just relax a tad. John could try for both, the latter firstly. Bobby decides hugging back might scare him off, so sticks to just petting his face and down his back, and the whole dog-touch-thing comes to mind, but he really doesn't want to compare John to a dog. Most touches are used to indicate for a person to assure them. Like a _don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you _of slow strokes to arms or face. Rubs on backs can help relax a person. Some are for pleasure, or closeness. Touches can be used to get to know a person more, indicating friendship. Bobby has _no idea_ where John falls into.

Bobby kisses his forehead, and yet again hugs and kisses don't need to falling into the whole 'girlfriend' 'boyfriend' thing. It's justified by the dog thing again. Seriously. And Bobby's done this before, so John doesn't jerk or make a sound. John himself has never kissed him- okay once, but that was because he was wasted of his face. And Bobby's guilty to. And it's not the whole 'gay' 'bi' 'straight' thing, because their _mutants_ and might as well be as fucked up as they can be. And John can be as queer as he wants, or into bestially or a necrophilia. Actually. He has a cat at home. Ugh. Bad, wrong image. But mostly it's because John's one of those people that can't stop once they've started. It's one of those insecurity things again. He doesn't want to lose him. So with the whole hugs and being... close, or whatever, John just doesn't want to _start _anything. Not just a sexual relationship. It's a start trusting, or getting close to him as a friend kind of thing. And then comes that day Bobby breaks his heart over _whatever_.

Bobby just doesn't know what's its like being the pretty boy walking down the dark road at night.

Oh. He can imagine, but not actually know.

It's like the whole _fire _business. Once John starts to burn, he can't control himself. Hn. He must be picking up on Logan's bad habits. At least the guy can heal himself. So. Once he gets his tongue down someone's throat, he kinda of looses it to. A craving for human affection.

He probably needs serious therapy. Because that _can't_ be good.

Bobby knows that John _needs_ the whole cuddle thing. Contradicting or not it's true. Big tip off is the tiger cuddle toy in his bed. Heh. Bobby nearly _died_ when John pulled it out. Now he knows its significance. And it's not just the cuddle thing. Oops. Contradicting himself _again_. Bobby has his personal bed covers and pillow, posters and books, heck some of his own furniture is in the room. Not John. His only personal belonging is the stuffed tiger, sitting alone on his bed with its missing eye.

And really it's _impossibly_ sweet. And cute. And many other things. John always glares at him over the tiger when he catches Bobby grinning stupidly at him.

Backing off now, because John's starting to fidget-

But not the kind of fidget that means wanting to move off the bed. Single. Just to put out there again. "Can I-" Johns also not big on the word front either. Sometimes he'd rather keep it to himself than say anything. Unlike Bobby who just puts it all out there. John struggles to spit it out. Lucky for Bobby, he already knows what he wants.

"Only if you bring the tiger with you," he smiles lightly.

"Softie," John gives him a thump, but manages to twist and reach out to grab the battered old thing anyway. It has the same scent as John, Bobby thinks, as he shoves it between them. Bobby really doesn't see the toy all that often. It's back fur is mattered from use, because that's where John puts his chin subconsciously in his sleep. And- geez! John gives a friggen _soft toy_ more cuddles than him. Bobby refuses to be jealous of that. Because that's just immature.

Damn. John reads the fleeting expression on his face and deliberately pulls the tiger close. He knew he should have turned the light off sooner. Childishly, Bobby rolls over with a huff. John's laugh is clearer this time.

"Aw, Bobby. Come here. You know I- _fuck_. I, uh, really can't," say it. John scrunches up his face in a pained way.

But that's okay. Bobby knows what he means anyway.

***

END


	4. Green

**Title **Green

**Rating **R-15 for swearing ( I like to be safe )

**Category **Xmen ( movieverse )

**Author's Note **John is the best toy EVER. So Moo got herself a boyfriend. I accused her of ignoring me and sulked, haha. And.. uh. Green is not an object. Rightyho. Oh yes. And thanks so much for all the kind words!! It's actually... blown me away to be frank XD

**Disclaimer **Hm. Not mine XD funny that

**Dedication**

_To Moo. Kind, wonderful, supportive, BFFE friend. This is _very _over due_

***

John can't see how he's never _noticed_ it before. It was right under his nose, spitting him in the face. God damn _laughing_ at him.

And John- doesn't know how to fucking _deal_ with it.

He's never had this problem before. He never used to _be_ like this. So critical of himself, or others around him. He didn't use to _care_. Just got on with _his _life, and not worry about anyone else's. So... why this? Why now? Why Bobby?

The blonde wriggles in his seat, and he _knows _he's done something. The way John's hard eyes keep burning into his back like that. And that's really not fair on Bobby, John thinks. He shouldn't even care! It's Bobby's life, not his. He grounds his teeth, fluttering the lighter lid in his fingers. For once it doesn't help his nerves.

And the more he keeps glaring at Bobby, the more his rage grows, and the urge to create a fire bomb as big as the classroom becomes more plausible.

A flick of paper. John glances up and a small paper aeroplane whizzes over his head, and lands on Bobby's desk. He glances back, and John sees out of the corner of his eye, Rogue waving cheekily at him.

Something snaps, and for a second John knows how Logan feels.

**

He wakes-and he's in the infirmary. He just makes out Hank's massive furry shape. Why is he here?

_Because you just blew up your chemistry classroom, St. John_

And here- fuck. The _Professor_. Wheeling his way towards him in the hospital bed. Only he would call him by his full name... and speak in his mind. Right. Sitting up, John notices there are hot water bottles stuffed in beside him. The Professor answers his question. "Bobby put you down. It seems you felt the need to create a fireworks display in the classroom."

Or in John terms- he blew the classroom up. Well... good. At the moment he feels like blowing away to nothing. The bald man scowls at that thought, but says nothing. John tries not to think bitches thoughts. Which is really _really _hard. "Why did you do it?" the Professor asks what's on everyone's minds. John _tsks _and glances away moodily, finding an interesting crack in the ceiling to study.

"John- I know you refuse to talk about your... emotions. But you have to. Otherwise this is going to happen again. Mutant genes manifest more strongly when the owner is under emotion strain. Talking will-"

"Not help," John finishes. _I've gotten this far in life without needing to talk- without _needing _anyone. So get the fuck outa my head! _

The Professor- doesn't reel backwards, or frown. He just... looks at him. John feels a little nervous at that, so he looks down at the bed sheets. The creak of wheels says he is leaving. "Everyone always needs somebody, John."

**

Bobby's not waiting up for him. Go figure. The lights are turned off, and the covers are drawn up over the sleeping boy. John limps into their room, still stiff from the frost bite and third degree burns which he really didn't think was possible to have at the same time. It's almost four in the morning.

"No need to thank me."

John physically jumps. He falls backwards onto his bed to cover it up. Not so smart. His side burns from the pain. But he's pretty sure he managed to cover that-

"John... are you okay?"

-up. The light comes on. John blinks a few times to clear his head and to focus his eyes. "Turn that off," he growls.

"No. I think we need to talk." Fuck. Fuck. _Fuck_. He really doesn't want to talk about that little scene in the classroom. Because that would lead to other _things_. And John really doesn't want to go there right now.

"Talking's... not really my thing," he laughs nervously, pulling out his lighting, and letting it lick up his palm like a dog.

"I know. Which is why we need to start," Bobby sighs, pulling himself up until he's at eye level with John on the opposite bed. John reacts like he's lighters been taken off him. He flinches. Badly and quite openly. "Look. We need to sort this."

Hn. He's using _that voice_ again. It makes John feel like he's fourteen again. "Sort what out? Look. Stop treating me like-"

"Then don't act like it!" Bobby cuts across him loudly. John blinks. Bobby relaxes back, and smiles. "I know taking can be- hard. Lots of things can happen. Friendships can be lost, or your trust can be broken. But there are lots of good things also. It's about Rogue isn't it?"

Blunt. John just stares at him.

"John-"

"Give me- _fucking'A_. You're such a hypocrite! You didn't even bother _telling_ me about her," he blurts out the horrible sentence that's been plaguing him for weeks on end. He never wanted to get close to Bobby. He _wanted _to keep him at arms lengths. Because he knows what happens whenever you let a person in like he's done with Bobby.

"And you care about that?" Bobby asks, innocently.

"Of course I-" do. _Don't_. Something.

Why _should_ he care? It's not like there's anything going on between _them_. John bites his lip so roughly it bleeds. Human emotions. So stupid. Something else he can't burn. He rolls over, sending out a dart of flame that makes the light explode. Closing his eyes, he crosses his arms defensively over his bandaged chest.

What is it? Why does he care so much? Maybe because- it feels like he's being left behind.

And Bobby's nudging at his side, trying to get his attention, or to move over... he doesn't let him. Feeling too confused and messed up at the moment.

"John.. I'm not going anywhere. You know that right?" Bobby confesses to him, making John think that maybe Bobby's secretly a mind reader also. He shifts his head to peer at him. Bobby's kneeling beside his bed, blue eyes anxious.

"I'm not bothered by it," he sniffs huffily. Because, suddenly. He feels better about it. Bobby smiles brilliantly at that.

"Then stop being such a jackarse!"

"Well- for a second. I thought I couldn't see you," John says, out of the blue. Bobby gives him an odd look.

"Huh?"

"Are you gettin' in, or not? I'm not gonna wait all night!" John barks gruffly, rolling right over, and snatches at Bobby's hands, pulling him down. "Ouch. You can keep me warm. I swear I can still feel the ice."

"John, you-"

"What?"

"Nevermind," Bobby laughs, snatching most of the pillow for himself. Yeah. He didn't have anything to worry about after all.

***

END


	5. Glue

**Title **Glue

**Rating **PG-16 for excessive swearing and plenty of innuendo

**Category **Xmen ( movieverse )

**Author's Note **Not too sure where this bunny jumped from, but I was like YES MUST DO BECAUSE SCOTT IS A STICK IN THE MUD. Crack for all~

**Disclaimer **Hm. Not mine XD funny that

* * *

John finds the whole scenario very amusing. The whole class had thought it hilarious. He wishes Scott would see the funny side to it to.

Right now the class has dispersed to go find help, or to get out of the firing line of Scott, scariest thing alive since creation. John lounges back on his desk, hands propping up his body and feet just touching the ground. Scott's posture nearly mirrors Johns. Except it's the front desk, his feet are off the floor and his arms are crossed. His headset is burning _scarlet_.

It's really the right kind of wrong to see Scott sitting on a desk in the first place. Like the right kind of wrong to pressure Bobby into helping him blow up half the field in a 'play fight'. The pressuring part- not the blowing up. He'd only been sitting on it in the first place, because walking around the desk to the chair was just that much more hard work. And then-stick.

"You know, sir," John tries in that fake kind of voice that only grandma really listens to. "I bet if you tried hard enough, you'd see my side of it."

"John, I swear-"

"Don't make promises you can't commit to."

"- I'm going to break your neck once I can move."

You see- John really loves Hank. Hank and his lab. Like sex and spandex. To great tastes. Not that _he _would know anything about that. Haha. Hank likes to play around and experiment. Like creating a TARDIS that could fit into the palm of one furry paw. This time, Hank had been making some kind of sticky substance. Like glue. Only ten times_ better_. Put it on any surface and-stick. You couldn't get it off.

The perfect toy for a practical joke.

So now Scott is glued to his desk. And John thinks it's the best thing ever. Well- not quite. Things could always be _that_ much better.

His teacher has automatically made the stand down gesture, before mentally kicking himself. Like John is really going to pay attention to that. "John-what," John likes spontaneous. It _works_. So half the time people never know what he is going to pull next.

So-push. Down goes Scott, and the back of his visor and head connect painfully with the desk. He sticks fast. "You fucking asshole, I take it back. I need something much more painful and slow to deal with you."

And with the way some of those wild arms movements are going, John is sure he would. But not right now. "I think I like you better this way," John laughs, and taking care of the desk, pushes himself up using Scott's chest and plants his knees on either side of Scott's waist. So much torture, so little time. He still had his hands free to.

One comes up, aiming for his visor trigger, but John prides himself on being faster. A fist full of flames makes Scott thing twice about lopping the blondes head off just yet. "Aw, I've trained you so well. Put those back here, teach'," John shoves both hands back to the desk.

Scott's mouth is set in a grim line, like someone has told him to go sit and corner and think about what he'd done. "I'm not actually going to do anything. The door being wide open an' all," John assures him, half wishing for some form of sharp instrument to make Scott's existence just that more painful. He was sure he'd left them up stairs somewhere.

"But the idea it still kinda there, isn't it?" Scott's hands twitch in John's grip, like he was thinking of breaking free. Or inflicting great pain on John.

"You know when I get called out for emergencies- I really must be expecting more from this school I think," and Logan is watching from the door frame like it's the best channel ever. John knew he liked him for a reason. Scott of course can't turn his head, but makes an effort anyway.

"Logan!" the voice that comes out of Scott, John recognises. Because his poor little victims tend to make it when their just about ready to bite their tongue and drown in their own blood than face him. Always makes him glow a little inside. "Thank God. Get him off me."

And Logan- just keeps staring. Johns leans back a little, knees staring to hurt. "And why would I wanna do that? I think I like you better this way."

Great, fan-fucking-tastic minds. John wants to laugh, but thinks better of it.

"What's wrong?"

Logan's has the fucking _Wolverine_ voice out, which is always a put off. "Sticky desk," which makes both men kind of wince. Logan's in the room, inspecting but not touching the desk.

"Looks like you might be here awhile, Slim. If it's one of Hanks creations, God knows what'll get it off," Logan doesn't break the news gently. "Unless you want me to rip you off. But that could be painful."

"Fantastic," Scott says sarcastically, and his ruby visor dims, meaning his eyes are closed.

"Firebug, you might want to get off him now," Logan adds in helpfully. Sounds like a good idea. Solid school desks are not made for this kind of position no matter what overlyhorny teachers may tell you. John tugs and- oh fuck fuck _fuck_. He'd thought he had only put the glue in a specific place. But- like Logan had said. Hanks creation. The glue has stretched over the entire desk. John is helplessly stuck. He lets go of Scott's hands, which are thankfully not glued down, and tries to use his chest for leverage.

"Hey- ow!" Scott complains.

"Um. How good is your sense of humour at the moment?" John smiles crookedly at them both.

"You have got to be- _kidding me,_" Scott's face looks livered, and he wriggles worse than ever, which isn't a good thing to do in retrospect of John's point of view.

Logan looks like he wants to roll his eyes, or maybe even take _their _eyes out, but he musters some kind of dignity. "John. . . take your pants off."

John has imagined pretty much every teacher saying that to him, save for the small fact it's the _female_ teachers of the school barking out that order, but Logan- _now _he's heard it all. And, yup, he _did _hear correctly, because Scott's face mirrors his own. Fuck.

"A_hah_. Logan, now's a pretty inappropriate time to be thinking that way, hm," wise cracking has saved lives before, please Jesus let it happen again, he prays feverishly.

"Moron. Your _pants _are stuck to the table. If you take them off. . you'll be free. We could probably do the same with Slim here, but _someone _had to go gluing his hands down."

Erm. Now was probably a good time to mention he is going commando today. Well-hey. It wasn't like he _planned _to be spontaneously glued in a very awkward position over his teacher and then pull his pants down for all to see. Fucking hell where is God when you need him?!

"Come on, John. We don't have all day!" Logan snapped, oblivious to the raging war that is going inside John's head.

"Uh. You know what? How about we just wait for Hank to solve the problem for us?"

"We _have _solved the problem- of for _fuck- _I'll do then."

And Logan is in the act of grabbing for Johns belt, while the boy considers setting the man's head on fire for a _very _long time when there is a commotion outside the door.

"Okay. _Now _I've seen it all."

Aw son of a _bitch, _why does it have to be Bobby?

"Hmm, I'll be having some very happy dreams tonight."

Fucking _Kitty _to?!

"I hope you can all explain yourselves."

"Oh God. Jean, it's _not _what it looks like."

"Even _I_ don't know what this is anymore."

"John, shut the hell up. This is your_ entire_ fault."

John has the feeling he's going to be here for quite some time.

* * *

**END**


End file.
